


plus puissant que l'alcool, nous aimons

by CastellanGarak



Series: Betverse [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: And therefore toppy Dukat, Bottom Garak, Cloacal Sex, Drunken sex, Genderfluid Character, Missing Scene, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Top Dukat, Uniform Kink, Very Sorry About That, Very subby Garak, also sorry about the badly mangled french
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/pseuds/CastellanGarak
Summary: If you ever wondered what that drunken first night from The Bet was like... wonder no more. Missing Scene from Ch 1 of The Bet. Meant to be read after The Bet, tho, because of spoilers herein.
Relationships: Dukat/Elim Garak
Series: Betverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565323
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	plus puissant que l'alcool, nous aimons

**Author's Note:**

> The title makes more sense if you know it's two lines of a French poem I smooshed together, but also could not find online in the original French, so had to smoosh together in English, then translate back into French, but I Do Not Know French, so am very sorry to anyone's language I butchered. Also, this was months ago and I can no longer remember what the poem was, but if I ever can find it again, I'll let y'all know.

Garak stumbles into their quarters, nearly losing their balance, but manages to steady themself on Dukat, giggling. Dukat smiles lopsidedly down at them, and waits for the door to close behind them, locking it, and pressing Garak up against it. He leans down to suck at Garak’s neck for the hundredth, it seems, time tonight, and Garak moans, stumbles, and clutches at him. They dig their fingers into Dukat’s hair, keeping him close, panting and whimpering and overstimulated. Dukat chuckles, and teases his teeth against Garak’s neck; Garak lets out a gasping breath. “Bite me!” Dukat amusedly obliges, and Garak groans, their overeager cock beginning to evert. It pushes out past the cool scales at their entrance, tip smoothly sliding out to rub at the textured fabric of their trousers. They give an instinctive buck of their hips, and Dukat slips a leg between Garak’s, giving them something firm to grind against. Garak sighs, clenching their thighs around Dukat’s, bucking and twisting desperately against him.

Dukat pulls off Garak’s neck with a wet sound, moving to cup Garak’s face and leans in to kiss them. Garak pushes his face away. “Don’t stop,” they gasp out. Dukat gives them a look, but goes back to biting them. Garak brings their hands down to fumble desperately at their belt.

They get it open, then unzip their pants and slip their hand inside. They wrap their hand around their cock, and fuck into it, letting out a whine, and dripping thickly from their slit, slick dribbling down their thighs. Dukat groans against their neck at the intoxicating scent. He’d get a little drunk off it, were he not already three sheets to the wind. He pulls Garak’s hand off their now mostly everted cock. Garak starts to protest, but cuts off when Dukat replaces their hand with his own. Garak throws their head back against the door, humming contentedly.

Dukat strokes them in fast, rough jerks of his wrist, and Garak’s breath hitches. They collapse back against the door, the combination of alcohol and attentions overwhelming their sense of equilibrium. Dukat sinks his teeth deeply into Garak’s neck ridge, and Garak keens, coming across Dukat’s palm, and through his fingers, soiling the cloth covering his taught thigh. Dukat hums, and chuckles, stroking Garak through it. He pulls Garak away from the door, and towards the bed.

Garak allows themself to be manhandled, flopping across the bed when Dukat pushes them against it. They bounce once or twice before Dukat hastily climbs up after them, attempting to wrestle Garak’s pants off. Succeeding, he tries to remove Garak’s shirt, but is confounded by the complicated clasps. Garak lets out a breathy laugh, and takes over for Dukat. As they do this, Dukat scrambles to undress, kicking off his pants and tugging his shirt over his head, bypassing the fastenings. They finish undressing at the same time, Dukat having made quicker work of it to keep up with Garak.

Dukat leans down, now, presses Garak into the bed, and kisses them. Garak kisses back, technique sloppy from drink. Dukat settles himself over Garak, and pushes his tip at the scales at their entrance. Garak wriggles in the sheets and squeaks, twitching downwards onto Dukat's cock. Dukat slides smoothly into his purse in one thrust, deciding that with all that slick, not only would Garak stretch wide just fine. Failing to get on with it might just get Dukat clawed for his troubles should he decide to prepare Garak further. Garak gasps, and _oh fuck are they tight. It’s like nothing’s ventured here for years._ Dukat sets up a steady rhythm, despite the overwhelming sensation, and hopes they’ll both come out of this with their sanity intact.

“You know,” Garak says, between the hitches shaken out of them by Dukat’s gutting thrusts, but bites their lip, cutting themself off.

“Yes?” Dukat asks.

“Nothing,” Garak says, looking away.

“No, tell me,” Dukat says, halting the motion of his hips.

Garak looks at him begrudgingly, then says, “Do you remember when we first met?”

“On Romulus?” Dukat asks.

“Yeah,” Garak says.

“What about it?” Dukat asks, confused, horny, but with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Well.” Garak says, and then hesitates. Then they force themself to look at Dukat. “When I first saw you. I couldn’t think of anything but how attractive you were.”

Dukat smirks, and gives a shallow thrust, to... encourage Garak. “Is that so? Tell me more.”

“You were in your Central Command uniform. And all I could think, was how sexy you made it look. How much I wanted you to fuck me wearing it. In fact, I wish you were wearing it --Ah!-- now.”

Dukat hums, then says, “I could go get it, if you wanted.”

Garak laughs. “You’d-- you’d walk back to your ship fully everted?”

“It’s for a good cause.”

Garak laughs again. “No, I don’t think so.”

“If you’re sure,” Dukat says, and _promptly_ resumes fucking them.

Garak moans, grabs the back of his neck, and pulls him down into a kiss.

Taking the kiss over after a moment, Dukat pushes Garak’s head down into their pillow, then pulls back, admiring how Garak’s usually kempt hair is fanned out around their face.

Garak growls in protest. “Why are you like this?” they ask.

Dukat hums, leaning down to bite them yet again. Garak moans, tangling their fingers into Dukat’s hair. “You’re very good at this,” they say.

Dukat laughs. “It’s not rocket science.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Mmmm.” Dukat says, returning to Garak’s neck to continue his nipping and sucking.

Garak groans, hips stuttering up. “God, Dukat, please.”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know,”’ Garak admits. “Just… more.”

Dukat is happy to oblige, sinking his teeth in even deeper. Garak comes again, and Dukat gasps, following him over the edge.

“I’m good, huh?” Dukat asks, pressing his chufa to Garak’s.

Garak squirms and rolls their eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Ugh,” Garak says. “Let me turn over,” they demand. They’ve had enough of Dukat, and his insufferable attitude.

Dukat pulls out, kneeling back as Garak turns over. He slides back into position, pressing his fingers into Garak’s hips from behind, hoping he'll bruise. He slides back into Garak, and Garak fists a hand into the sheets. They close their eyes thinking, suddenly, of Julian. They had asked for a distraction, and had gotten one, but --clearly-- it didn’t work for long. Garak so very desperately wants Julian to be the one fucking them right now. Garak, on their knees, eyes closed, hips above their head, tries to pretend it’s Julian, tries to pretend the cock pounding into them is smooth rather than ridged, blunt rather than tapered, that the firm scales at the base bumping into them are something more mammalian, a pair of somethings, astonishingly unprotected. It works, for a moment. “Julian,” Garak moans.

Dukat slows and stops, growls, furious. He pulls out, and forcibly flips Garak over, catching the drunk Cardassian off guard. “Hey!” Garak protests. Dukat ignores them, grabbing hold of and manoeuvering his way around Garak's haphazardly flailing legs. Garak keeps their eyes closed, and settles, trying to keep the fiction going. Dukat nudges at Garak's entrance, waiting, tugs at their chin and says, “Look at me.”

“No.”

Dukat stills and pulls back his hips.

“Don’t stop,” Garak whines, with something akin to genuine anxiety in their voice.

“I’ll keep going, if you look at me.”

Garak sighs deeply, and opens their eyes.

Dukat looks into them, keeping his hand firmly on Garak’s chin. He snorts and fucks into them.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re attracted to me, after all.”

Garak rolls their eyes, but the effect is lost. The snark just doesn't come through quite as scathing whilst their head is restrained. Garak huffs. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Dukat laughs. “And why not? It’s an amazing revelation. You hate me so much, yet I’m irresistible to you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” they protest. Garak growls, wriggling underneath Dukat out of some mix of indignation and embarrassment. This somewhat undermines the sentiment, as it causes Dukat's cock to strike them just so. Garak gasps.

“Wouldn’t you?” Dukat asks, smugly. “You let me into your bed, after all.”

“Only because I’m intoxicated.” Garak says.

“In vino veritas,” Dukat says.

“What?” Garak asks, confused, nearly crossing their eyes as they attempt to look Dukat in the face up so close.

“Nevermind,” Dukat says. smiling, he lowers his head to Garak’s neck, biting it fiercely.

Garak comes again, moaning Dukat’s name.

Dukat smiles. “There you go,” he says.

“Shut up,” Garak hisses. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Dukat says, smirking.

“I swear to fuck, Dukat, shut your mouth, and keep fucking me.”

“I don’t know,” Dukat says, pulling out. “You’ve come so many times already, and I only got the one. Doesn’t seem fair to me.”

Garak rolls their eyes. “I don’t give a fuck,” they say, pushing Dukat off of them and sitting up. If Dukat won’t fuck him, Garak will just have to ride him! They scramble about, attempting to climb up on top of Dukat. “Dukat, come on! Look, you won't even have to do the work. Dukat, I'll ride you! Please!” Dukat huffs, grabbing them by the arms with bruising force, preventing them from climbing up onto him. Garak sucks in a shocked breath, tries to wriggle out of his grasp. Dukat doesn’t let them. Garak hisses, struggling against him, and Dukat maneuvers them to the edge of the bed, then shoves them off of it.

Garak hits the floor with a squawk. “What the fuck?” they demand. “How dare you!”

Dukat swings his legs to the floor, then stands up, and leans down to pull Garak up onto their knees. “If you blow me, I’ll fuck you again,” he says.

Garak gives an incredulous laugh. “As if. As if I’d put my mouth on your nasty--”

They are cut off when Dukat uses his fingers to pry their mouth open, raising his eyeridges at Garak, waiting for them to give in and make a decision. Garak leans forward a bit, tentatively sticking the tip of their tongue out to tease at the slit of Dukat's cockhead. Dukat proceeds to sink his cock inside Garak's mouth in one slow motion, past lips, tongue tip, and onwards to the back of Garak's throat.

“Mmmph!!!” Garak chokes, outraged, as it slides down smoothly. They consider biting down, but disappointingly lose their viritol as they realise they’ve adjusted to the intrusion, could get used to this-

-but then Dukat starts to fuck their face, and it's all too much, again. Garak’s eyes roll up, and they moan fervently. Fuck.

They had fantasized about this, about Dukat dominating them, using them. _They_ could _get used to this._

They steady themself with their hands on Dukat’s hips, shifts their weight to a more comfortable position, and start to bob their head, taking Dukat even deeper into their mouth. They are just setting up a steady rhythm, when Dukat grabs their head and holds it in place, not allowing them to move. Garak groans, aroused at the rough handling, and suddenly, they need to touch themself, desperately. They take a hand off Dukat’s hip and bring it down to their cock, instead. They fist themself, and tongue weakly at Dukat’s cock, all they can do with their head restrained. Garak is so wet, that the motion of their hand on their cock makes slick, noisy sounds.

Dukat makes a surprised noise. “Are you??” he asks.

“Mmph,” Garak says, in affirmation.

“Oh,” Dukat gasps out, “That’s--” he cuts off with a cry, coming down Garak’s throat. Garak swallows, then pulls back, Dukat finally letting go of their head.

Dukat takes a moment to catch his breath, then puts out a hand to help Garak up. “Well, I guess I’ll fuck you now. I did promise, after all.”

Garak ignores his proffered hand, rubs a hand across their mouth, then says, voice hoarse. “No. Again.”

Dukat laughs. “Liked that, did you?”

“Oh shut up,” Garak hisses, flushing furiously. “I _hate_ \--”

Dukat interrupts by sliding his cock back into their mouth, gripping, again, at Garak’s head, to hold it in place. Garak moans, and comes onto the floor, and then moves their hand back up to Dukat’s hip, holding on for the ride.


End file.
